


Flat Lines

by KinugoshiDofu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Eventual Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Humor, M/M, POV Remus Lupin, Pining, Regulus Black Lives, Remus Lupin & Regulus Black friendship, Remus Lupin Lives, Romance, Sirius Black Lives, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-01 20:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinugoshiDofu/pseuds/KinugoshiDofu
Summary: Remus isn’t sure what they talk about, but only because he’s put the paper on the side table and Sirius keeps making obscene gestures at him. He’s pretty sure this is all a dream anyway, because Sirius hasn’t been on the first page of the paper way back since when they first caught him, and back then he was just kind of screaming, pain edged in his face. He’s pretty sure that Sirius winking and making faces under that obnoxious header will turn out to be a fantasy, and he’ll wake up any moment now, watering can still in hand as he’s dozed off with the heady scent of his roses outside.Except that when Dumbledore gets up to leave he kind of pinches his own elbow and then when he waves Dumbledore off he pinches his own cheek and he doesn’t wake up, not even later when he rams his head into the fridge.So he ends up with a teaching job and a paper that’s making crude hand gestures.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a fb discussion where I was fiercely defending Regulus over Snape and then this idea just bloomed and now here we are. What if Regulus didn't die, and he became potion's teacher/spy instead of Snape?
> 
> of course it turned into wolfstar because that is just my life.

1

***

Remus has not seen Regulus in almost a year now, the last time having been as catastrophic as it had.

Regulus had spent all year teaching and growing out his hair and that evening as they spent quiet time in front of the fire Regulus had taken one of his mother’s golden _kanzashi_ and put up his hair, _just like Sirius used to_ and of course Remus had ended up sobbing like a little baby and that was just a whole amount of awkward he was not eager to go through again.

Regulus lives in a small flat outside of London with a little balcony garden where he grows his plants and herbs and when Remus thinks of him – as he does often and always fondly – he imagines the man in his soft cotton _jinbei_ , hair streaming down his shoulders, watering his Venomous Tentacula by hand.

He’s adopted a black stray that he lovingly refers to as _Siri_ and though he will never admit it, he’s softened around the edges, years of parental oppression long behind him and Hogwarts now more like a home than it’s ever been.

They correspondence via letters because, Remus supposes, they’re kind of in the same boat now, at any rate. Regulus’ ex-boyfriend is in Azkaban rotting away too, and who else has he that’s left on their side, anyway? They’re the only ones left that remember what it was like _before_ , really, so they go through the motions together, share pot-pie recipes and exchange Christmas gifts. They’ve moved on.

He tells him stories of the greenhouses and new paintings that have popped up over the year, the tall Christmas trees with exaggerated decorations and how once he went down to talk to his house and the giant squid was popping up right next to the tall windows, scaring half the first years half to death, and, more recently, of how Harry Potter absolutely obliterated sassy-ass Lucius Malfoy’s kid and Remus reads his letters with a sting of jealousy and a whole lot of joy because life has never been fair, and he has learned not to weep over spilt pumpkin juice by now.

Things have happened, Remus knows. It’s in the way Regulus doesn’t say anything much in his latest letters, generalisations of end-of-term exams and how a bunch of redheaded third years had managed to switch all his potion labels around. Remus tries to imagine he feels uncomfortable, keeping the truth hidden and to himself, so much so that he spends his nights kicking off the blankets and staring aimlessly at his bedroom ceiling – but then if he’s being honest, Regulus is probably most proficient at keeping secrets, and he probably sleeps extremely well in his silk sheets.

Remus drives his car there and parks a few blocks away so he can walk and clear his head. The neighbourhood is clean and quiet, mostly older people and singles. He knows Regulus uses a vast combination of spells to keep his patio hidden from muggles, but he’s already wondering what the nightshade will look like in full bloom, contemplates whether Regulus still grows black roses.

When he lets himself into the flat, there is the sound of Regulus’ mortar and pestle coming from the small kitchen. He calls to announce his arrival before he turns the corner and then just kind of stands there for a moment because—

Regulus is still more Orion, more hard shoulder lines and strong chin, too small for how tall he stands. His eyes, almond-shaped and dark, haunted even now with the sins of his past and the departure of innocence from his childhood. He’s wearing a deep green _yukata_ with the _obi_ tight around his waist and he looks more like a Black than he has in a while. There’s blood on his hands – it’s no longer there of course, but Remus can always still kind of see it, white knuckles stained red with Sirius’ blood after their tumble in the courtyard. Regulus’ fists, however, could never do the damage his words did.

He is more Orion but yet so strikingly Sirius – long black hair flowing down his back, kohl accentuating the sharpness of his eyes and the corner of his pink mouth, so obscenely standing out again his white skin, perking up in half a grin.

Next to him there is a boy with eyes like emeralds, baring an uncanny resemblance to the first friend he ever made, way back when on his first trip on the Hogwarts express – Harry has a dark afro of kinky hair sitting on the top of his head and he is sweating above his cauldron, sleeves pushed up his arms as the far too big sweater hangs off his body. His round-rimmed glasses threaten to slide all the way down his nose but he’s staring up at Remus with wonder in his eyes, a polite smile overtaking his thin face.

He looks out of place in this space – Regulus’ kitchen is stocked with wooden cabinets holding glass jars of plucked ingredients, sage and rosemary and other herbs hang above his kitchenette, the cat is playing on top of the terrarium in the corner that houses his yellow bellied sea snake which he keeps for its venom, and, Remus supposes, its company. Harry looks lost with his still prim condition potion’s book and his wand next to his chopping board and the chopping itself is surely what Regulus would call abysmal. He is here, perhaps not just for private potion’s classes, but also mostly just to get used to what living with magic is like.

“Oh Remus, there you are,” Regulus waves him over, whisking his wand to clear the potions ingredients off the table, “this is the man Hagrid told you about mister Potter, he took half the pictures in that album.”

Harry is polite which is a little bit painful but it’s better than nothing and maybe Remus wants to cry again, but happy tears now, because is he as happy and healthy as Remus had wished he would be, growing up? Probably not, because Regulus does not invite all his students into his house, only the ones that need a safe-haven to do their homework and hide their powers from their disapproving families and that in itself speaks _volumes_ , but he is _alive_ which is more than can be said about anyone else who’s ever faced Lord Voldemort.

Perhaps he’s fattened up a little bit too, with all those delicious Hogwarts meals, and he shows “mister Lupin” a handcrafted book Hagrid gave him, in all his infinite affection for the boy, with pictures of his parents and it’s absolutely lovely.

They sit in Regulus’ small living room, with the windows thrown wide open and the gentle breeze making the wind chimes sing. While Regulus makes them tea Harry looks around the room curiously, lingering over the golden snitch buzzing away in a jar by the fireplace, and then talking proudly of his own first capture of the golden snitch. They talk about Quidditch and the boy blooms open like one of Regulus’ flowers, hesitant voice but energetic hand gestures.

He watches the pictures on the fireplace move and Remus comes up next to him; it’s the softest parallel between a young wizard and his teacher, as Remus is sure Regulus himself had stood in front of Slughorn’s fireplace countless time, admiring the many pictures he gathered of his students there.

There’s the picture of Sirius and Regulus as small boys in matching indigo kimono, the smaller Black boy grasping at his brother’s hand. They wave, smiling in the picture, but there’s already a hollow in their eyes that Remus isn’t sure he’s imagining, but he can _feel_ it there, as if Orion’s rough hands and Walburga’s harsh words are in the picture, too.

The next picture is one of Regulus at Hogwarts, with the Slytherin Quidditch team, Regulus as seeker in the middle, happily showing off his caught snitch. His team mates are patting his back and he looks happy in this moment, _proud of himself_ , and it’s heart-warming.

There’s more pictures of Regulus with his students and Regulus with Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa, and a picture taken the summer before Hogwarts with Regulus, Sirius, James, Peter, and lastly Remus, all eating Forteque’s ice cream and laughing, but there are none of Severus Snape, where once there had been mostly those, and it’s an observation that leaves Remus’ chest feel a little more hollow, every time.

They drink tea and flip through Harry’s album together and Remus kind of forgets, because suddenly he is back at Hogwarts and he’s talking about how they met and how good James was at Quidditch, and what a bright witch Lilly had been and how immaculate her potions were. And Harry’s eyes are twinkling, his mouth slack around his cup as he continues to listen in astonishment.

Harry says, “he looks a lot like you,” when he sees this Japanese teenager standing next to his parents, all smiles on their wedding, all three of the wedding attendants waving at the three of them on the couch and Regulus nods, “yes, he did,” and Harry seems to almost get it because he doesn’t pry further.

Remus isn’t sure if he mentions Sirius just the once or over a thousand times, and it doesn’t hurt that much, this way, with Harry’s canines showing as he listens to his father and mother’s marvellous life.

Later, Kreacher comes in from the hallway with the groceries and Harry looks up as if broken from a trance, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Thank you for doing the shopping Kreacher,” Regulus smiles at the house elf, receiving a polite nod in return, Kreacher’s beady eyes trailing over the guests, “can you go feed mother next?”

Remus laughs, knowing that this is the endearment Regulus uses to refer to his snake – Kreacher answers immediately, “of course young master,” and Harry just looks generally confused and a little surprised, staring at the back of the house elf as he disappears in the kitchen.

“He’s a house elf,” Regulus explains patiently to the dazed boy, “he can be a little grumpy, but he helps me out a lot.”

There’s an understatement there, perhaps more than one, because Regulus almost died when Kreacher almost did, and then Kreacher almost died when Regulus almost did, too. It’s complicated, Remus always thought, but as he watches Regulus’ eyes slip to the mantel and then to Kreacher and back again, he thinks maybe it’s not that complicated after all.

There’s a sudden honking from a car outside the flat, and Harry jumps up from the couch frantically.

“That must be my uncle,” he explains, and then nothing else as he runs back to the kitchen to gather his stuff.

They watch him go and they both get up to see him out. Harry thanks the both of them profoundly and tells “professor Black” to tell Neville and Seamus he said hi and then he’s spurting down the stairs as the car honks a second time, impatient.

Remus glances outside the window just to make sure – he sees the large man with the huge moustache shout at Harry as he quickly gets in the car – Regulus coming up beside him, shrugging his shoulders.

“Sev was right about those muggles, they’re horrible,” they watch the car disappear down the street and there’s this vague feeling in Remus’ stomach that feels like _empty_ , “he lives with Lily’s sister now, they absolutely loathe magic. I just reminded them that I know hexes they can only dream of, and that I am old enough to use them without reprimand, too.”

There’s a lot of Slytherin in his smirk, and Remus has to laugh at that – things aren’t all that bad. Are they good? With Harry’s uncle shouting abuse and his own aunt shunning him? Hell no. But Harry could be dead, and that would be much worse.

They end up cooking together, too, neither having any further plans for the evening, so they prepare meat and vegetables and sit together on the patio in between the strong-smelling dittany and the blooming nightshade.

"He's nice," Regulus says at length, distracted by the snapping sound of his self-fertilising shrubs momentarily, "Sirius would have liked him."

It's a kind of desolate, absentmindedly phrased thought, Regulus' dark eyes on the shrubs and his brain some far distant place trying to correctly interpret the sound and act accordingly – it strikes something old and deep and hurtful in Remus, something ancient, perhaps something that's always just been there, even before the bite, because he feels this anger as if it was born and raised with him, not moon cycle grown.

"Sirius would have seen him dead," it hurts to say it, so he bites it, all teeth and years of spite, because he's taught himself this; Sirius is the bad guy here, not him, and he will not be blamed for the ways he tried to overcome his grief.

Regulus takes out his packet of cigarettes, doesn't meet Remus' eyes. He's staring, somewhere far-off again, and Remus wonders if Regulus too, dreams of a world where it is Sirius sitting on this bench with him, instead.

"I don't know," he says eventually, and it comes out of his mouth with the smoke, fleeting, barely there. His eyes are black, and his face flashes with past memories, not all of them bad, per say, but not most of them good, "I just don't know Remus."

His voice is too soft and too forgiving and Remus wants to stomp out his heart because there is always hope fluttering there and it is killing him. So he grits his teeth, balls his fists, and spits, "I bet Peter would know, that is, if he were still alive."

Regulus doesn't say anything to that, because there's nothing he really can say to that. Remus looks as he inhales and then exhales the smoke through his nose and they sit in silence until the raging Hungarian Horntail in his stomach settles down and he no longer feels upset, just sleepy, and Regulus takes his hand, too gentle, and they continue to exist in the setting light of the sun.

***

That summer Remus visits Regulus' place often. He thinks maybe they're just lonely, but if he's being honest he's missed Regulus, dark and broody and always smoking and in the evenings sometimes he closes his eyes and remembers Sirius and it's not as painful as it used to be, with the smell of smoke and spices mixing, not until he opens his eyes.

Some days he has the young Malfoy boy over, and Remus entertains himself by watching them brew potions together, chops up Regulus' frog brains and laughs as Draco makes a face when Regulus critiques his cutting technique. Some days a thin mousy boy called Theodore Nott joins Draco, and Remus knows the boy's parents, sees the boy's sunken face, and knows why he's there. They are both eager learners, though Theo seems to lack some dexterity and the skill that comes naturally to Draco, all rough edges in his face and clean measurements with pale hands.

On some days Draco brings what appears to be a close friend, an Italian boy named Blaise Zabini. He has no interest in potions whatsoever and spends most of his time watching Draco and complaining, nudging the boy with his head or nose, not embarrassed in front of the adults even as the pale boy's cheeks go flaming red. He spends a lot of his time whistling, talking to Regulus' plants, annoying Kreacher and just generally staring at Draco. He appears to have no intention whatsoever to learn anything new, or even review some of his first year material; whenever Regulus even dares suggest anything of the likes the boy just kind of shrieks, "professor Black!" indignantly, and then flings himself across the balcony bars dramatically.

When later Remus wonders aloud as to where Regulus gets the patience to deal with such an insufferable brat, Regulus just shrugs his shoulders and says, "I just really love that gay ass kid," very seriously, so Remus has no idea if he means it or not.

He supposes it doesn’t matter, either, because Draco is always pale, face a rigidly constructed mask of hidden emotions, but he smiles around Blaise, and Remus thinks everyone needs someone they can smile around. So maybe Regulus has ulterior motives – when doesn’t he? – but he’s making an in-distress child smile by inviting his not-so-polite best friend, and if that makes a difference, who is Remus to judge?

Remus personally likes days when Seamus is around the best. He likes the eagerness in the Hufflepuff boy, the sarcasm that lines the Ravenclaw girl’s speech, but he loves Seamus’ stories most. It is not through Regulus’ well-constructed thought-through comments that Remus learns what happened at Hogwarts, but through Seamus’ accented, all-over-the-place storytelling.

“Oh yeah did you hear Harry vanquished our DADA teacher?” he says while adding powdered rat spleens to his potion, “oh it was quite the adventure,” he says as he stirs the pot, “he also beat a troll, well I mean Ron did, but Ron also beat McGonagall’s chess game, it was all very weird!”

So he strings together the passing events, and Regulus watches approvingly as Seamus creates the puzzle for him, offers him piece after piece until it becomes a clear picture. Regulus tells him he hates telling stories, and Seamus is way better at it, anyway.

Neville is scared of brewing potions, always adding a little bit too much roots or not enough seeds and he’s always just anxiously stirring into a concoction that is neither the right colour nor the right smell. Regulus teaches him all the plant names in his kitchen, lets him water his Venomous Tentacula and gives him Polypody to grow in his own garden. He learns where all the potions ingredients come from, and how Regulus harvests his herbs and where he stores them, and Remus thinks by the end of summer the boy has bloomed, more beautifully than Regulus’ nightshade has.

September comes and goes and Remus promises he will check up on Kreacher every now and then, but the apartment is different without Regulus and he feels like an intruder. After work he returns to his cottage and he kind of falls into this old pattern again – work, alone time, work, alone time. It doesn’t bother him, this life suits him, but he thinks back of the summer and misses its warmth.

Regulus writes him, and once a month he sends him a sufficient batch of Wolfsbane and they’ve rekindled their friendship, all awkwardness left behind, and it makes Remus a better person for it, he’s sure.

Full moons come and go and he meets with colleagues for a drink and he waters the black roses Regulus gave him when they met last, and it’s all very _life_ -like. He is living and taking up space and maybe he doesn’t exactly love it, but he enjoys it well enough.

Harry writes him letters too, but only because Remus wrote him first, he’s sure of it. He is always very polite, the times they’ve met over summer having softened his weariness, but not enough for him to fully let down his guard yet. Remus supposes with a childhood like Harry’s, it takes a lot more than a couple of stories to break down his walls.

He’s gone Christmas shopping when he gets home late one day and Regulus’ head is in his fireplace.

“I’ve been here for half an hour!” Regulus complains, every inch of him a little child that hasn’t gotten the candies he wanted, “he talks to snakes!”

Remus isn’t sure what Regulus is talking about – he’s still half in his coat and the bags he brought have been unceremoniously dropped by the door – worrying about snakes had been the last thing on his mind as he entered and saw his ex-boyfriend’s little brother’s head lighting up his fireplace green.

“Um? He what?” Remus takes off his scarf and then just kind of stares at Regulus – now the fireplace glow is green, but Remus imagines that the younger man may actually be _blushing_.

“Listen, don’t judge me, but I brought mother to Hogwarts with me,” yes, Remus is quite sure, with Regulus’ eyes downturned, that the raven is blushing, “and I’m pretty sure she’s been chatting with him and giving him potions tips, because he’s always sitting down next to her cage and whispering shit and doing way too well for what a train wreck he is!”

Regulus says it all very sharply, but there’s no real malice in the statement. If anything he seems to be hiding some kind of misplaced pride, and Remus has to purse his lips – normal wizards would find talking to snakes a very ominous sign, but leave it to Regulus to be _excited_ over it.

“Oh well I mean…” Remus isn’t sure what he means because he is caught between wanting to scold Regulus and going over to Hogwarts right away to have a sit-down with Harry. He feels fourteen all over again, forced to reconcile Sirius and Peter after the former broke into the latter’s Honeydukes stash. If only life could ever be that simple again, “that’s new,” it just kind of blurts out because he’s kind of thinking of something else now, before Regulus’ indignant spluttering brings him back to the here and now.

“I should tell him it’s weird right?” Regulus rambles on, uprightly confused as to how best to deal with the situation, “and tell his little bitch ass he isn’t cheating any longer I mean can you believe mother though? The audacity!” he turns his nose up and Remus isn’t sure what is making the younger man more upset – the infidelity of his pupil, or his pet snake.

Remus eventually manages to calm him down, and the situation in itself, though not that funny, is really very funny. For a moment Regulus is not Hogwarts’ potion teacher, but Sirius’ snobby brother that needs a talking to. Remus has missed that in his life, he thinks.

He tells Regulus he’ll contact Harry about it and not to worry about mother, because she’s only being the helpful being he’s raised her to be – he’s pretty sure half of what he’s saying is just in jest, but Regulus listens to him with narrowed eyes and then nods and says, “you’re much more of a nurturer anyway,” whatever that may mean.

He spends the rest of the night thinking about how to broach the subject, exactly, because he can’t just say “hey your teacher brought a snake to Hogwarts because he’s kind of a nutter but please don’t talk to it because that’s making him more of a nutter” because that would probably make _him_ sound like a nutter. He really wants Harry to realise no one is a nutter.

He ends up writing a somewhat casual letter, and although he doesn’t want Harry to feel as if they’re talking about him behind his back it’s very difficult to state his point without making that obvious. So he just generalises a little bit and writes things like, “some wizards have special talents” and “sometimes special talents are misunderstood” and “I am here for you regardless” and then finishes it with, “professor Black calls his snake mother, in case you hadn’t realised” and thinks that’s as obvious he can make it without making it painfully so.

That very evening he sends the letter, because he’s just bought Harry some leather-bound books on Defence against the Dark Arts for Christmas and he doesn’t want the two messages getting confused in any way.

It turns out he doesn’t have to worry, because two days later he has a letter back with Harry spilling the pumpkin pasties; the first time he talked to a snake he accidentally set it on his cousin but mother was really nice to him and reminded him to stir clockwise instead of anti-clockwise and she wasn’t as obvious about it as Hermione was.

The last sentence reads "am I weird?" and Remus thinks Harry is more of a Gryffindor than Sirius ever was, so bravely asking questions he needs to hear the answers to.

He writes a new letter and talks about You-Know-Who talking to snakes and how it's an odd coincidence but then Harry also survived his dead curse so perhaps it's not a weird coincidence, just a coincidence they don't understand yet. He also adds his Christmas gift, and a picture of the Marauders at the winter solstice party in Hogsmeade in their sixth year – they are all wearing ridiculous muggle accessories on which Lilly had insisted, to hide their identity. Sirius is wearing a black and white police hat to hide his long hair, and a costume Remus has since then seen on a muggle nurse with black tights underneath. Peter has whiskers drawn on his face and is wearing fake cat ears and a very fluffy tail, and Remus is in full clown make-up; too-big shoes included. James is wearing a fake moustache, a cowboy hat to hide his hair, and suspenders.

On the back of the picture he writes, "all the best people are".

He ignores how his stomach erupts into flitterbies as nurse Sirius winks at him and quickly finds an envelope for the picture, so that he no longer has to watch clown Remus flatter into nurse Sirius' side, thus losing a whole lot of white make-up and gaining the redness of Sirius' cheeks lighting up his pale skin.

These days he doesn’t feel so affronted when met with the sight of his over-affectionate self and Sirius, canoodling in Marauders pictures he still has hanging off his bedroom wall, but it’s also just a little weird, because obviously, picture-Remus hasn’t gotten the owl about Sirius being a traitor and all, and also, Sirius just doesn’t _look_ like a traitor in their pictures. Not that there’s a traitor look, but Remus was always pretty sure big black dog cuddling into his front _wasn’t_ it.

He used to take a lot of pictures but now instead of cheerfully taking his camera everywhere he goes, he hides it shamefully underneath his bed with all the pictures. He doesn’t indulge in the full feeling his heart gets, watching his former self and his former lover smooching in the Gryffindor dorm. It feels dirty now, and he doesn’t need any more dirt in his life, thank you very much.

As it turns out, it will be getting a little dirtier, as he is forced to watch from the sidelines as Hogwarts almost goes to hell except that before it really does Harry tells the “big ass pussy snake” as Regulus puts it, to leave the school alone and then when that doesn’t work and the snake abducts a little girl to take revenge on Harry’s sassy mouth he follows it into a hidden chamber or something and then stabs it with a sword.

It’s Regulus that tells him the story in his letter first, and then Harry tells him again in his, and he thinks he kind of gets the gist of it. Apparently, a House Elf tried to seriously maim him too, but after meeting grumpy Kreacher he had just stupidly assumed it was a House Elf thing to do and taken no heed to it.

It’s safe to say Remus worries, but only because Harry appears to be a special kind of dense.

He goes round for tea at Regulus’ when the man first comes home and he just seems generally very upset that there was a hidden chamber with a big ass snake and that, he says: “that little sassy mouth _stabbed it_! I could have _experimented with it_! Honestly, _Gryffindors_ ,” and he huffs a lot and gives Remus side-eye as if he is to blame for the ridiculousness that a lot of his house-members possess.

His hemlock is blooming, and Remus helps him water the rest of his plants. Mother is back in her terrarium, and the sunset is glorious, as if the light had been dim without Regulus here. His hair has grown longer, and he watches him put it up with his wand as he goes to scrub the soil of his hands and he has to swallow something thick because he looks a lot like his brother like this – profile askew with the bright light and weird angle, raven hair up on his head in a messy bun and his pale neck revealed to the light, long and tender and—

His shoulders give it all away though and Remus catches himself before doing anything silly like _reach out_. Regulus gives him a look like maybe he knows, but he doesn’t comment, merely steps aside so Remus can use the faucet as well.

As far as summers go it’s a pretty catastrophic one though. He’s trimming his bushes when the paper arrives, and he doesn’t think much of it at first, because the owl just kind of swoops in, patiently waiting on his bench with its leg out to receive payment, and it’s all very ordinary stuff.

His cabin is on the edge of the woods, and he doesn’t usually receive visitors – he always goes out to drink with his colleagues, and Regulus doesn’t like being away from his home in summer – so it’s a little odd when he hears the wind chimes out front chime to announce a visitor. He thinks that if this was a novel, the clouds would have been turning dark overhead, but in reality it is a bright summer day and sweat is prickling down his neck.

He takes his time, pays the owl its fee and puts down his watering can before going into the house with his paper in hand, distracted by the pretty music of his chimes – they haven’t chimed for a visitor in ages, and he’s almost forgotten what it sounds like. He wonders about who it could be at his door as he stomps his feet on the rug to get off the mud, and then takes his shirt from where he left it by the counter to cover up his torso. He’s far away, too hot to be bothered.

It’s almost a coincidence, he thinks, how at the exact moment that he opens the door, his eye catches the front page of the daily prophet.

Sirius’ hair is impossibly long – it’s waving down his shoulders and back, falling into his face with a nonchalant grace, dark like the night sky. He’s in old raggedy prisoner’s robes, but he’s winking and waving, pursing his pink lips and batting his long lashes and Remus almost drops the paper right there because it reads “Escape from Azkaban” and that’s not a context Remus ever wanted to see Sirius put in but there he is, winking all the while.

Dumbledore’s hair is equally long but his face is much less enthusiastic, worry lining the wrinkles in his brow.

They spend a lot of time talking and drinking tea, and it’s overall a little distressing but also familiar. He hasn’t seen Albus in years, though they exchange the occasional letter, and to know that he is still involved, still on their side, it’s comforting.

Remus isn’t sure what they talk about, but only because he’s put the paper on the side table and Sirius keeps making obscene gestures at him. He’s pretty sure this is all a dream anyway, because Sirius hasn’t been on the first page of the paper way back since when they first caught him, and back then he was just kind of screaming, pain edged in his face. He’s pretty sure that Sirius winking and making faces under that obnoxious header will turn out to be a fantasy, and he’ll wake up any moment now, watering can still in hand as he’s dozed off with the heady scent of his roses outside.

Except that when Dumbledore gets up to leave he kind of pinches his own elbow and then when he waves Dumbledore off he pinches his own cheek and he doesn’t wake up, not even later when he rams his head into the fridge.

So he ends up with a teaching job and a paper that’s making crude hand gestures.

He’s pretty sure at that point the summer can’t get worse, at any rate.

It’s doesn’t _really_. Just a bit.

Regulus writes him letters every day with poorly veiled concern for his safety – “Sirius probably broke out for a shag” he writes, but Remus isn’t sure he’s joking – and Remus spends a lot of days in his bed, annoyed that of all seasons to escape, Sirius chose the hottest one, so that he can not even properly sulk in his bed, making pillow fords and hiding under blankets. Instead he lays sweating and uncomfortable and stares out of the window.

On days that he does drag his butt out of his bed, he visits Regulus, who tries to distract him by feeding him chocolate triple fudge cake and has Seamus tell him more silly stories – if the boy realises he’s being used for his accent, he doesn’t show it, just talks an endless stream of accented words as he watches his friend Dean Thomas brew potions.

Harry is as oblivious as ever, just kind of sweats over his cauldron and doesn’t mention anything about anyone – there’s a possibility he hasn’t heard the wizarding news, or that the man in the wanted posters, with his too long hair, ghostly thin, grimy face and pinpricks of a beard doesn’t resemble Regulus that much anymore, after all. Remus cokes it up to Harry being the most oblivious boy he has ever met, but he doesn’t blame him and is thankful for it, at any rate.

It’s a disastrous enough summer without having to have the your-Godfather-got-your-parents-killed-and-I-used-to-date-him-and-your-beloved-potion-teacher-is-his-brother talk. Remus may be more of a nurturer than Regulus, but he’s pretty sure no one is enough of a nurturer to make _that_ sound good.

Also, Harry does this really stupid thing where instead of confiding in Remus – they write letters for Merlin’s sake, he could have dropped a hint! – he lets his uncle and his uncle’s sister bully him until he explodes, and makes the woman explode too, apparently. She doesn’t burst, but from what Remus hears it was a close call.

He then also runs away into the wide world where Sirius Black is roaming free – a murderous killer who has absolutely no scrupulous – and apparently ends up at the leaky cauldron.

Remus hears about it from his friends at the Ministry, but it was quite a frantic search, and he kind of wants to laugh because he got a letter from Harry saying he accidentally turned his not-really-aunt into a balloon and then met the Minister for Magic, as if it was some kind of teenage-dream-come-true experience, instead of a nearly lethal one that sent the whole Ministry into a panic.

They hang out in Diagon Alley before Dumbledore can even implore him to by letter, but only because Remus really wants to. He thinks this is what they were supposed to be doing all those years, anyway, that this is the exact kind of thing he would have ended up doing with Harry if his parents had lived, and he doesn’t dwell on the twinge in his heart, but on the smile on Harry’s face.

They eat a lot of ice cream, and Harry is blossoming, opening up and feeling comfortable, and there’s no tenseness in his shoulders, no extra gears turning in his head. Remus marvels as every day he feels Harry trust him a little more, but then it’s also a very painful realisation, as there is such an important detail that he’s hiding from him.

Sirius no longer bats his lashes at him from wanted posters, there’s always just tears in his eyes.

Remus doesn’t pretend to understand all things, not even most things, but he doesn’t understand why these days his heart is just always feeling heavy.

Full moon comes and then goes and he wakes up in his cabin feeling worse than he has in years now, despite the potion Regulus has supplied him with ever so dutifully – it’s like he misses everyone more than he has in a very long time and it is such an overwhelming feeling of loss that he can barely breathe with it, thick regret stuck in his lungs.

***


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you angry?” he asks as he catches up with him, confused as he wipes the tears from his own face.
> 
> “Yes,” Regulus doesn’t even bother to hide, sends a fierce – albeit watery – glare Remus’ way before facing the castle determinately, “how could you ever forget that he loves you most?”

# 2

***

September comes in rainy. Regulus leaves for Hogwarts by floo, but not after spending over an hour arguing with Remus as to why he thinks taking the Hogwarts express is a catastrophically bad idea and Remus having to remind him about a dozen times that he is a grown-up and an adult and older than Regulus and wiser and other similar statements that do nothing but infuriate the smaller raven senseless.

He falls asleep on the train as soon as he’s boarded, and it’s probably for the best, too, because he’s spent hours with his best friends here and the memories might drive him crazy if he were to keep awake.

He also ends up getting to do something kind of heroic which would have been cool if Harry hadn’t fainted – anyway as far as heroic things go it’s the most heroic thing he’s done in ages so he takes it with a little bit of pride and the reminder that he needs to stop showing people his Patronus because after all these years it’s still a big black dog and that shit is _embarrassing_.

Regulus has the _audacity_ to be waiting for him as the train rolls in, giving him his sternest teacher look, and Remus will admit it might have been pretty damn convincing, except that he caught Regulus with his pants down and on his knees in front of Severus Snape – the man moaning for “his little King” – one really revealing winter morning in the second floor bathrooms and since he’s seen the look of extreme horror on the boy’s face, nothing about him scares Remus anymore, not really. Regulus is flesh, blood and hormones, just like the whole bloody bunch of them.

He’ll admit he’s endeared though, because Regulus is already wearing his proper robes atop his kimono-styled outfit but there’s random locks falling from the silver kanzashi in his hair and he obviously _rushed_ , probably just to make sure Remus got off the train safe.

“You look like a dog fucked you over sideways,” he feels a whole lot less endeared as Regulus hisses in his ear, scaring a group of unsorted, terrified-looking first years away with a single look, “get your butt out of that carriage,” he barks at a group of fourth-years next, levitating Remus’ trunk up into the front seat, “you’re a daft twat,” he mutters disapprovingly, and then refuses to sit beside Remus, instead just side-eyeing him in total silence the whole trip to the castle.

Which isn’t _fair_ because Remus is pretty sure it’s not _his_ fault Dementors were stupid enough to think Sirius would just take the train to Hogwarts. Sure, Sirius would probably be dim enough to come up with that idea, but the Dementors have no way of knowing that – for all they know, they are dealing with the mastermind that has escaped their clutches, and they have no right thinking he would just wander through a muggle station now that his face has been all over muggle television.

Hogwarts is just about as damn magical as it has always been, and Remus lets the lull of impatient students and the smell of delicious food carry him off, his body leading him to the great hall by mere memory, this place having been so much of a home for him in the past.

Dumbledore’s speeches are about as daft as they’ve always been, too, and Remus thinks he might never stop grinning like an idiot after he’s been introduced as the new DADA teacher and he sees Harry jumping out of his seat at Gryffindor table, his hands rapidly leading the whole school in applause.

After the feast he thinks he’s ready for a nightcap and then bed except that when he finds Regulus the younger man is addressing the whole of Slytherin house, gathering the newly sorted first-years around him as he speaks, “get changed into your pyjamas and I will meet you in front of the fire in fifteen minutes,” ushering them off after the Slytherin prefect.

“You meet them before bed?” Remus walks beside his friend into the hallway, the plump Longbottom boy waving at Regulus as he passes.

Regulus hums kind of none-committedly, as if it is a thing he would rather not share with Remus – for a moment he mistakenly assumes it is because it is an ancient Slytherin tradition, but when he remarks, “we don’t do that in Gryffindor,” Regulus snorts derisively.

“Why would you need to? You don’t get booed for being sorted into Gryffindor,” it is a fairly simple thing to say, Remus supposes, as far as things to say go.

Knowing Regulus, he could have been much less blunt and whimsical about it, but it’s exactly the fact that he _hadn’t_ that makes something choke up in Remus’ chest. The raven doesn’t wave goodbye as he disappears down the stairs that lead to his private rooms, and Remus instead heads left to go up to his own, a little awkwardness settling in his stomach.

He’s never actually thought of it like that, never even _realised_ , but when he thinks back, every kid that got sorted had been met with cheers from the whole school – except for the Slytherins.

As if life isn’t hard enough already, that’s now another thing to keep him up at night. There’s also the added fact of a new room, and how silly he feels putting a frame of his old friends up on his desk, and then he lies awake for the rest of the evening thinking about what Regulus is telling his first years now and getting out of bed to put the frame back into his trunk, and then cuddling back into his blankets only to draw them back again ten minutes later to search for the frame and plop it back where he put it in the first place.

Come morning he can’t remember whether he put it on his desk or back in his suitcase but he is a little mystified when he goes into his bathroom and finds it sitting on the sink instead.

He pees and watches James, Sirius and Peter mock him defiantly, just because everything in his life seems so absurd right now, using the loo in front of their photographed images doesn’t even scratch the surface.

His first lessons go swimmingly, if he does say so himself, with his detailed pictures on Erumpents and the miniature he has to walk over the students’ desks. He has the sixth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs first, and they’re mostly a well-behaved bunch, all bright-eyed and fascinated as he has them sketch the Erumpents’ tread.

Next are the second year Gryffindors and Slytherins, though having heard of a certain DADA teacher’s pixy-related disaster he has deemed it wise not to bring any living examples into his classroom. Instead he shows them old tapes of the havoc pixies reap in villages, and finds them to be watching it quite animatedly.

He has no class third period and it’s a weird feeling to be in the empty classroom, but he decides he best prepare for fourth period instead. He is just putting down pamphlets on the desks for his next class, when there’s a knock to his door, and it’s Harry.

Remus is not _naïve_ , but it’s also just the first day of school and Harry fainted on the train only yesterday so he’s pretty sure that whatever the boy is here for, it’s all perfectly innocuous.

Except he’s holding a Wanted poster with his Godfather’s face sulking in the frame, saying, “so Sirius Black is professor Black’s brother, right?” and Remus feels as if he can just kind of _feel_ his stomach drop, previous aloof smile wiped off his face and he thinks life is really cruel, _honestly_.

He doesn’t really know what to do, not entirely sure if this is a task for his nurturing self, so instead of explaining anything he just kind of blurts out, “ _stay here_!” and then makes haste out the door.

Analytical, he would say to Regulus in flattery, while he is actually just really factual, which is exactly what Remus needs right now – he has no desire to wish-wash over the family ties of his ex-boyfriend and actually if he could just go one day without being forced to think about Sirius that would be really fucking perfect.

Regulus’ classroom is not like Remus remembers the potion’s classroom to be at all – there’s a lot more light, and a comforting yellowish at that, coming from the rows of rice paper lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There’s a whole row of plants near the far wall that give the room a more welcoming feeling than just the endless rows of potions bottles used to, mother’s terrarium having been moved to stand proudly at the front of the room. He has plenty of bottles and boxes filled with ingredients against the other wall, all labelled in Regulus’ curvaceous scribble. As always his workbench is prim and proper, his cauldron bubbling away and his cutting board stacked neatly beside his opened book.

The man himself is near the front row, long hair falling into his face as he’s helping out a Ravenclaw student while the others work away on chopping up their ingredients, concentration thick in the room.

Remus _almost_ feels bad about disturbing the peace except then a Hufflepuff he taught earlier that morning waves and cheers “professor!” and Regulus is looking up, eyes already piercing his.

It doesn’t feel very weird, not even as he beckons the raven over impatiently – Regulus is _not_ impressed, but he tells his students to have prepared their ingredients by the time he’s back and then follows him into the hallway.

“Well?” he ignores Regulus entirely because he doesn’t know how to say that Harry is in his room and asking about Sirius, just because they don’t usually like talking about Sirius, mostly because Remus tends to cry and Regulus is just very bad at one: not crying along, and two: being a good comforting friend.

Actually, he’s a disaster, and frequently spills hot tea over sad people.

So Remus says nothing, just leads him back to his own classroom, and then when he opens the door and Regulus sees Harry standing in the middle of it, he seems to get it, face deflating.

“Oh damn,” he sighs deeply as he flops down in chair close to where the boy is standing, “I was kinda hoping his beard had gotten too mangy.”

Harry bites his lips and as he looks from one professor to the other, his dark curls do a little dance on to top of his head.

“So, you were all friends at Hogwarts?” Remus realises Harry must have been thinking about it for quite a while, as he must have noticed the pictures on Regulus’ mantle, and looked back at the photos he got from Hagrid and Remus and remember the stories they told and put two and two together.

He’s never been more disappointed by another person’s wit before.

“Well, yeah.”

Remus shrugs his shoulders, playing it cool, but then Regulus goes and spoil it all, crossing his legs as he blurts out, “they were boyfriends,” nodding his chin in the direction of where Harry is still holding the poster.

The brunette feels his eyes narrowing at the Slytherin’s statement, but as the young raven blinks at him in surprise he can’t find the courage to disagree – because it’s not a lie, not at all, actually, and though Regulus outing him in such a way is rather embarrassing, he also supposes there’s no none-embarrassing way to say “hey I fell in love with a guy who turned into a serial killer”.

“Okay, yeah, but—“ Harry goes to ask another question, but Regulus cuts him off kind of curtly with, “actually, my ex-boyfriend is a Death Eater too,” studying his nails disinterestedly.

It shouldn’t surprise Remus that Regulus can be so matter-of-factly about this, _of all things_ , but it does, because he’s spent his whole life at Hogwarts watching Regulus’ pale cheeks heat up as Severus Snape enters a room, and there is nothing there but indifference now and Remus thinks he might feel it in his heart a little too, how such a passionate thing has turned so cold.

Harry goes quiet again and as his cheeks blush darker and Regulus gives him a pointed look, Remus realises there is actual reason behind his madness, because Harry is now fidgeting with his robe to hide his trembling fingers, obviously beyond embarrassed.

All thoughts of asking them any more questions concerning Sirius Black seem to have left his mind entirely, as he just stares at his shoes and murmurs, “I don’t know what to say… you two got real bad taste in men,” to which Remus almost chokes on a laugh.

For a moment it looks as if Regulus is going to say something – his eyes flit to Remus, eyebrow arched up, and then away again – before reconsidering, seemingly realising he is not professor Black now, but _just_ _Regulus_ , and as _just Regulus_ it’s perfectly fine to just shrug his shoulders and admit, “fair enough.”

Remus isn’t sure what to do now. He gets a little closer and puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder in what he really hopes isn’t as awkward a move for Harry as it is for him and he tries to kind of radiate care and compassion through that single hand, too, which is silly, but he’s not sure how to say, “you’re opening up old wounds and I want you to be comfortable and I want us to be open but then I also don’t want you to ask me things I don’t want to tell you the answer to” without actually saying it.

Harry seems to get it though, because he lowers his eyes again, apparently self-aware that he’d broached a difficult topic. He bites his lip, leans into Remus’ touch, watches his sneaker toe at a dent in the wooden floor.

They end up not saying much after that at all, except when Harry is about to leave he turns to them and goes, “professor?” and when they both look up he asks, “do you think Black is up to no good?”

Remus’ heart hurts because they solemnly swore they were up to no good.

“I don’t think so,” Regulus says, and he stands, as if that is that, except there’s air coming out in a deep sigh, breath Remus didn’t realise he was holding as he bemoans, “ _Regulus…_ ”

He doesn’t get angry, not really, just that his eyes turn to slits and he snaps, “I’ve been down that road and Sirius is _not wired like that,_ ” and Remus sees how his hand goes up to rest upon his left underarm, where Remus knows the Dark Mark is hiding under burned flesh, “he’s _not_.”

And Remus sees the expression on Harry’s face, knows what he’s really asking and he sees the darkness flicker in Regulus’ eyes, remembers the smell of copper and burnt flesh as Sirius banged on the bathroom door of Regulus’ apartment and he thinks of all these little things too, Sirius holding his hand and kissing Regulus’ temple and smiling up at him, _so bright_ and he finds himself saying, “don’t worry about it Harry, he won’t harm you,” and he doesn’t know if he’s lying, but he thinks he might believe it, too.

A burden falls off the young boy’s face, and that makes it all worth it. He rushes back to give them both a quick hug as if to say “you two have very bad taste in men but you’re still cool don’t worry” and it’s good enough.

Regulus doesn’t stay after that, doesn’t say a word, he just takes the paper Harry left behind and leaves the room, so that Remus is alone again, having forgotten all about the pamphlets he was supposed to be distributing.

It turns out that teaching at Hogwarts is kind of like a dream – one where he is wide awake. He gets to walk around the castle and see all these places where his memories lie buried beneath hard stone or soft earth and instead of pain he sees laughing faces and friendships being build and it’s kind of beautiful, not at all as painful as he thought it would be.

He gets used to the new bed and the new routine surprisingly quickly, and after that first night where his frame had appeared to be moving around, he hasn’t had any incidents. The Marauders smile at him after his morning shower and Sirius wolf-whistles at him, but he doesn’t move the frame, and he gets used to seeing their smiling faces first thing in the morning, eyes still bleary with sleep as he flops down on the toilet seat.

He puts a picture of Regulus and Sirius by his bedside, because he’s packed one and since he’s found it in his trunk it feels kind of weird to just leave it there. They hug a lot in the picture, for the most part, and it kind of makes Remus’ throat constrict with emotion, so he tries not to think about it too much.

And perhaps he is not walking the halls with the Black he would have preferred – that just means he needs to create room in his mind for new memories, with someone new by his side, and he tries not to think about that as he walks Regulus to his class after lunch, does not try to notice how Regulus is wearing the golden kanzashi Sirius used to favour today, tries not to think about how Sirius used to hold his hand, warm and comforting, when they walked like this.

He hears the Zabini boy before he sees him, because Regulus is telling him about intricate student-relationships and using his hands a lot so Remus has to kind of focus on that, but he is sure the boy is leering, which he just always seems to be doing these days, “so, professor Lupin! You and professor Black?”

He doesn’t think Blaise means it the way he thinks he means it, but when he notices Regulus is rolling his eyes he thinks maybe Blaise does mean it the way he thinks he means it.

“He’s been on about this since second year,” Regulus glares at the boy where he is waiting with the other third year Slytherins and Gryffindors for the start of their class, “just ignore him Remus.”

“I mean,” Remus shrugs his shoulders, giving his friend a clear look over, much to Blaise’s amusement, “you’re a very handsome man, but you’re not my type.”

Regulus looks absolutely _appalled_ , his lips parted in utter shock and his eyes shooting from Remus to Blaise and back, as if in disbelief that he would be so utterly humiliated by his own house.

“Oh excuse _you_!” he spits, “I’m not _your_ type? Are you every young man’s prince charming then?”

Remus knows he’s _not_ which is what makes it funny, kind of. He laughs, wide and without inhibition, and then presses a kiss to Regulus’ cheek just so he can watch the younger man splutter indignantly.

As if by accident his eyes meet Harry’s, and the raven is smiling up at him – there’s something there, Remus isn’t sure what, but it’s making him feel irrationally guilty for some reason. Suddenly he feels a little elated and he can’t shake the feeling, not even when Regulus playfully shoves him, muttering something about him being nutters under his breath.

It doesn’t turn weird, but that’s just because Remus isn’t entirely sure he knows _what_ should be getting weird.

It gets a little crazy around Halloween but that’s only because apparently Sirius has gone a little crazy and thinks entering a school filled with witches and wizards armed only with a knife is a smart idea. He goes a little knife-crazy on the fat lady and works everyone into a frenzy and although Remus is thoroughly un-impressed he also kind of feels for him; Halloween makes Remus a little crazy, too.

He doesn’t want Harry to ask him any more questions he doesn’t know how to answer to, so he finds the boy in his sleeping bag and tells him the things he does know how to say. He talks about James and how much he misses him and how amazing Lily’s magic was and how warm their home was, and he thinks maybe Harry relaxes with the thought of it, because by the end of the night he’s fallen asleep with his head in Remus’ lap.

That doesn’t get awkward either, but only because Remus refuses to let it.

He pretends Regulus isn’t very obviously trying to have a serious conversation with him and it’s really rather pathetic. He doesn’t want to hear what the raven has to say, either, because he knows how gentle it’s going to be and there should be _no gentleness left in him_ and he’s not sure where _Regulus Black_ , of all people, keeps getting it.

He’s pretty lucky that Regulus is good at taking hints though, and these days he’s always just huffing angrily, putting his hair up with his wand as he rolls his eyes when Remus pretends not to be looking.

They walk the grounds together so that Remus can watch Regulus look at the wildflowers and crouch down to touch at bugs and with preparations for classes and the full moon nearing he watches the skies go from rainy and gloomy to pure white with snow storms.

He tries not to think about Sirius for the most time, but it’s difficult with the holidays rolling in and Regulus making him his Wolfsbane potion. He sits with the raven and watches him blow stray locks from his face, his jawline pulled taut.

Lately he’s wearing thicker kimono to protect himself from the cold and he’s always digging his fingers into Remus’ woollen sweaters when he gets the chance to.

Remus gets him thick woollen socks and a scarf for Christmas but he kind of already knows that the man won’t use them – he far prefers aesthetic pleasure over convenience, and enjoys complaining about the weather far too much.

Time passes ridiculously quickly, but in the best of ways, since Remus loathes celebrating Christmas. It used to be his favourite holiday but now it’s just lonely and awkward and when he snuggles up to Regulus reading a book in the teacher room in the evening there is only this very heavy silence there to accompany them.

He tells himself it doesn’t matter, but it kind of does, because it makes him so randomly angry that he cannot even _enjoy his favourite holiday_ without it hurting.

Luckily for him, soon the castle is bustling back to life with the students returning there, and he has to start teaching Harry the Patronus charm, because he’s an idiot who makes promises and then has to keep them because his moral compass is just pointed that way.

It’s surprisingly nice, and not as emotionally strenuous as he first assumes it will be. As it turns out Harry just seems to genuinely like spending time with him, and when they’re not practicing they just hang out, talking or not, depending on the boy’s mood.

Sometimes Harry will want to talk about his parents, but he’s always gentle in the way he asks, much too empathetic for his age as he seems to realise that broaching the topic might put some strain on Remus. Nonetheless, Remus enjoys their talks, as he likes having someone to talk with about his childhood friends – Regulus likes James but absolutely _despises_ Peter.

There’s a little weirdness when Harry almost has a heart-attack seeing Remus’ Patronus for the first time – he had been passed out on the train, so Remus supposes that didn’t count – and just as he thinks maybe Harry _knows_ the boy splutters, “why is your Patronus the grim?!”

Remus almost loses his breath he’s laughing so hard.

“Harry, some dogs are _just_ dogs,” he says, wheezing through his laughter, and for some reason Harry needs to think about that for a big long while.

When the private classes get a little too real, Remus talks Harry down from his panic attacks, using soothing sounds to calm him and giving him a ton of chocolate as soon as he’s sure it’s safe to do so.

He will never claim that he is a professional, but he does have some experience with in-distress boys. Although Harry probably has a lot of horrid memories that would combat even the most tortured of minds, being friends with Sirius Black had been a good lesson in just how retched people could be.

Sirius’ parents had been abysmal, and his cousins had been no better. He would always take the brunt of their anger to protect his brother, and then growing up it didn’t help that his mother saw him as the malfunctioning one.

So it’s pretty safe to say that he has some experience with picking up the pieces of broken boys – so when Harry unravels in his arms, he lets him, and holds him tight as he goes.

In the end he thinks that it should probably be heart-breaking – but his heart is already broken, so where does he go from there?

It all gets a little messy when one of Harry’s friends wakes up in the middle of the night to find Sirius Black hovering above him – because that’s something Sirius does now, apparently, sneaks into castles guarded by Dementors just so he can creep on little children and scar them for life.

Remus isn’t _really_ surprised, but it is making him feel increasingly guilty about not telling Dumbledore about the whole Animagus thing.

Except that when he tells Regulus as they’re patrolling the edge of the forest to check for anything suspicious, the man just cuts him off before he can even finish, “listen,” he says very matter-of-factly, using his lumos to illuminate the grass, “the kid must have just gotten confused.”

It’s dark but they’re so close Remus can feel him shrugging his shoulders, bumping into him lightly.

“Regulus—“ Remus isn’t sure what he’s about to say, so although he acts exasperated when Regulus interrupts him, he’s secretly quite pleased at the chance _not_ to have to finish whatever sentence he has been about to begin.

“I’m just _saying_ that kid’s a pale freckly faced ginger,” there’s no malice, but Remus is still pretty happy they’re not in the vicinity of any of the students, because Regulus is waving his arms around heatedly and his hair is getting a little undone with how fussy he’s getting, “you think Sirius just casually forgot that his _godson is black_?!”

There’s malice _there_ , for sure, but it’s aimed at Remus, who just kind of huffs indignantly and taps his foot on the wet grass. It doesn’t have the effect he’d hoped for, but Regulus stops his own fussing and halts, just a little ahead.

If he thinks about it logically, there is just _no way_ that _anyone_ could have mistaken Ron for Harry. Harry is _famous_. His hair sticks out in odd angles and there’s a _huge_ scar on his forehead. Ron is pale as milk, a pink scar would stand out _for sure_ , plus, he does have a rather impressive collection of freckles feathered all over that white skin.

He’s still imagining what Ron’s hair on Harry’s face would look like, thoroughly freaking himself out, when Regulus speaks, scarily quiet for how loud he had been earlier: “did I ever tell you what made me leave the Death Eaters?”

He hasn’t, and Remus’ never asked him to, either, because that’s all from _before_ and he’d rather not think about _before_. He just remembers a lot of anger from the brothers and then Regulus almost dying and Kreacher bringing him back and then Regulus almost dying _again_ with fire and burnt skin and—

Maybe Remus doesn’t _want_ to know, because his heart is broken but the pieces of it still _hurt_ so much.

Regulus tells him the story anyway.

Regulus is young, impressionable, and makes a lot of wrong choices, but Sirius still loves him, that’s important, Regulus insists. A lot is going on and Regulus finds out more of You-Know-Who’s plans than he intends to, but he loves Severus Snape and he supposes maybe Snape loves him too, kind of, because his hands are always very warm and his kisses press into Regulus’ temple and it stills the fractured thoughts in his brain.

Sirius isn’t supposed to contact him, because it’s pretty bad for both of them – Sirius is supposed to hand Regulus over to the Order, and Regulus is supposed to hand Sirius over to the Death Eaters, and neither of them are that good at following the rules, really.

His voice breaks a little, and Remus wants to start crying before they’ve even reached the climax because he just _knows_ he’s not going to like what comes next.

“…and he tells me he wants to propose to you and how he wishes I could be his best man, the one to give him away, the only one who’s kept him sane all through growing up and then he—“ Regulus has to swallow thickly and then sneers, “says he _can’t_ because I’m _evil_.”

Remus _is_ crying. That’s so Sirius. Breaking all the hearts, including his own.

“So then I—“ Regulus vaguely indicates _everything_. His bottom lip is trembling, Remus can tell from the glow of his lit lumos.

He’s not sure what to do. Regulus is crying too, and his whole body is just _shaking_ with it.

Remus goes to wrap him up in a hug and then a couple of things happen at the same time – before he can actually get his arms around the younger man to comfort him, Regulus has already pulled away from his grasp, as if burned; at the same time he hears growling from the forbidden forest and then just a second after the sound has registered, Minerva’s voice is calling out for them, beckoning them back to the castle.

Regulus steps away briskly, taking his lumos away with him as he goes and Remus is bathed in darkness – he cannot see anything beyond the first line of trees, but the growling has disappeared too, so he quickly turns to follow his friend.

“Are you angry?” he asks as he catches up with him, confused as he wipes the tears from his own face.

“Yes,” Regulus doesn’t even bother to hide, sends a fierce – albeit watery – glare Remus’ way before facing the castle determinately, “how could you ever forget that he loves you most?”

In all honesty, Remus feels the urge to yell that that’s a stupid question and that Regulus _knows_ the answer already so why is he even _asking_. But then, he realises, maybe it isn’t?

The thought keeps him awake at night, and it’s all downhill from there.

He doesn’t properly talk to Regulus about it, and they spend a lot less time together now. He doesn’t know what to say and if he’d know what to say, he wouldn’t know _how_ to say it, either. He just kind of tries to put all his energy in teaching and it’s not _awful_ , not the worst his life has ever been, but it’s not really good, either.

It all boils down to a rather horrid feeling he has even after drinking the latest batch of Wolfsbane Regulus has so carefully prepared for him. The transformation is relatively painless, but there’s something stressing him out even as he’s changed. He feels absolutely restless, despite the perfect potion Regulus has brewed, and it gnaws at his brain, tangles its claws into his mind and there’s a lot of gnawing at his own flesh, a lot more clawing at his own skin than there’s been in ages.

He changes back after a difficult night of trying to tear his own hide off, ravaging his desk and closet, and breaking the potted snow roses Regulus gave him for Christmas to cheer his office up, and he has this remarkable feeling that he’s _missed something important_. It’s tiring, looking at the mess he’s made, the dusk creeping in with the sound of birds waking up and his papers scattered all over the room.

He’s not sure _why_ he was so tense, but the feeling lingers, even as he _reparo_ s the plants and with one look at the rest of the chaos, calls it a day.

Even as he catalogues his injuries, finding none of them life-threatening – the one gash on his thigh is bleeding profusely and there’s an impressive chunk missing from his shoulder that should probably hurt more – he can’t seem to shake the feeling. He daps some murtlap essence where he thinks he needs it most, conjures up some bandages and changes into sleeping shorts.

He falls to bed with a heavy heart, but sleep takes him instantly, his body completely drained.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> story of my life: it got too long D:  
> (I'm done writing and will update every week on wednesday! So next week wednesday should be the last update unless I add more fluff???)


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Am I dreaming?” he’s not sure what else to say, but when he reaches out to touch the box, Sirius’ snaps it closed on his fingers, making him yelp and then glare at the other man.
> 
> He’s still grinning, “well? Are you?”
> 
> He isn’t.

# 3

It feels like he’s barely even fallen asleep when he is quite rudely awakened again, by the deafening sound of his study’s door bursting open and then a cussed, “ _what the fuck_?!” before there’s urgent knocking on his bedroom door.

He turns around in bed, away from the sound, but when he hears, “professor Lupin!” and realises it is Harry’s voice he sits upright abruptly. He’s up and shuffling to his door before he’s even opened his eyes properly because he’s _never_ heard the boy so distressed before.

“Harry, what—“ he unlocks his bedroom door and peeks behind it – Harry’s hair is a complete mess and he’s wearing muddy jeans and there’s something on his sleeves that looks suspiciously much like blood, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.

His eyes are wide behind his rimmed glasses and the overall feel of the boy is not per say panic, but maybe exhilaration. Who’s to say?

“It’s Ron!” Harry says excitedly, “he’s been bitten!”

It’s not something anyone should be excited about, but Harry looks like he’s about to _burst_ , rocking on his feet. Remus feels his face fall in surprise.

“What?!

“Sirius Black _bit_ him!” and now that _definitely_ doesn’t sound like something that his friend should be excited about, but Harry’s already tugging at his arm through the crack in the door, trying to get him to follow him and at the same time making him embarrassingly aware of how he’s topless.

“He—?” Remus isn’t sure if maybe he’s still dreaming. Has he never left his bed?

But then why can he feel Harry’s tight hold so clearly on his wrist?

“Sirius Black is an Animagus and he _bit_ Ron!” when Remus realises the boy is not planning on going anywhere without him, he takes a short robe from his hanger and covers his naked chest, before opening the door fully.

“Um?” he’s not sure what to say, because that does sound like something Sirius could potentially do – except that he’s a wanted criminal and not allowed on school property, and also, not fond of biting people who aren’t Severus Snape.

He’s not sure what he should be doing either – should he be making the raven some tea? Has he had a bad dream? Is _Harry_ dreaming? – because Harry _won’t stop talking_ and it is _way too early_ for this.

“Yeah because apparently _Peter Pettigrew_ is the bad guy and—“

“Harry, Peter is _dead_ ,” he tries to sound matter-of-factly but he’s actually _yawning_ through the statement and that is just _embarrassing_.

“No he’s _not_ , he’s a rat!” Harry exclaims in a way that suggests people who are rats cannot die – which Remus is pretty sure is incorrect.

“He _was_ a rat,” he tries not to sound like he’s giving Harry an English lesson but the boy just stares at him as if he’s a total idiot – which isn’t _fair_ , because Remus is his _teacher_ and he should be respected, not ridiculed!

“You’re not listening,” he insists urgently, “ _he’s Ron’s rat!_ ” and then, when Remus just continues to stare at him, gives the deepest sigh one can muster, “oh just come on!” he grabs onto Remus’ wrist and drags his teacher along.

Remus isn’t sure of much at this point, but from the sound of it, the Weasley boy is having an even worse morning than Remus is.

The castle is still mostly quiet, which makes him realise that it’s probably a lot earlier than he previously thought. Harry won’t let go of his hand though, not even as he drags him up a set of stairs.

There’s light coming in through the tall windows and Remus notices how Harry looks a little battered, little slashes in his face, his knuckles opened raw. He’s _worried_ , but Harry keeps throwing back furtive glances to make sure Remus is still there so he keeps his mouth shut and picks up his pace, ignoring his sore muscles.

They skip through the fifth floor hallway and Harry nearly trips over his feet so that Remus has to kind of pull him backwards, saving him from the fall. They collide and just like that it’s as if Remus’ brain has been kick-started. He realises Harry must have seen the state of his office. Did he hurt himself on something coming in? Why are his jeans so dirty?

They stop still quite abruptly in front of a door that Remus knows to be hiding the prefect bathrooms – he’s used them countless times during his Hogwarts career – before he can point this out however, Harry has already muttered the password and the door swings open without objection.

This time, he’s pretty sure he _is_ dreaming.

First of all there’s the fact that Hermione Granger has _twigs_ in her hair – he has never seen her being anything less than pristine, tucked in shirt and bushy hair done perfectly – her jeans are ripped and there’s stains on her shirt that look like drool and goo and Remus doesn’t want to think about it. Her shoes, muddy and greyish, are sitting besides her, her tippy-toes stretched out to meet the suds floating atop the water.

Regulus is wearing a jinbei this early morning, soft black fabric covering his skin, but his hair is messy where he’s put it up into a bun, the kanzashi shimmering in the light spilling in through the stained glass window. He’s on his knees, working his wand as he makes scissors dance.

What _really_ sets him off however, is _Sirius_.

Because he’s _here_.

There’s water all the way up to his waist, and bubbles hiding his body from sight for the most part but there’s no mistaking – he is _here_.

His long fingers are playing with the suds, tender wrists moving gently across the surface. The ink splayed across his arms and shoulders is moving, itching around gingerly at the unfamiliar feel of the hot water after all these years. His collar bones dip in deep, pale throat constricting as he swallows nervously and Remus can’t seem to look away, the sight enticing.

He’s shaved, the unruly stubble he has in all the wanted pictures gone as if it was never there in the first place, the skin smooth. His cheeks are more hollow than Remus remembers them to be, accentuating the sharp features of his face. His brother is busy snipping away at his hair, but wet locks are falling into his face, brushing against his red mouth, the colour obscenely contrasted against his pale skin.

It’s his eyes though, that bring Remus back to reality, because they’re smouldering, deep dark holes in his head, and there’s so much emotion there that it crunches away at his stomach and he makes a weak kind of noise in the back of his throat as he stumbles forward.

Hermione is waving at him, beckoning them over as if this is the most normal thing in the whole entire world – Remus is _pretty sure_ it’s actually _not_.

Thankfully Regulus seems to realise his distress before Remus can even progress it. He lowers his wand which in turn lowers the scissors and comes over just as Harry flops down besides Hermione, tugging up his jeans so he can dip his feet into the bath.

“Remus it’s okay,” Regulus’ voice implies that he already knows it isn’t.

“How is this okay?!” Remus focuses on the younger brother’s face before him because if he doesn’t he’ll—“there is a _serial killer in the prefect’s bathroom_!”

Before Regulus can disagree, Hermione’s know-it-all voice pipes up from by the bath, “no, professor, that was the _rat_!”

She sounds exasperated, which just isn’t very fair considering the circumstances, _honestly_.

“The freckly kid’s rat,” Regulus is kind enough to elaborate, though Remus doubts that it is as much kindness as just that he probably doesn’t want to do anything that could potentially cause Remus to explode with anger, “it was Peter all along!”

This is the point where Remus decides that he must have probably lost his mind, considering he’s been mourning his friends’ deaths and moving past it for years except that now apparently he’s in a room full of people that believe one of them has somehow come back from the death? He’s pretty sure he doesn’t understand and his head is already hurting and he also really wants to cry.

“Oh Merlin, are you having a meltdown?” Regulus doesn’t sound nearly as sympathetic as Remus would’ve liked him to, his face drawn in half a scowl, “I mean I can’t actually make you tea, _we’re in a bathroom_ and—“

He’s not surprised Regulus is so self-absorbed, even now, but he is thoroughly unimpressed.

“Regulus, _you’re a wizard_ , you can make tea _anywhere_!” he snaps, perhaps a little bit more viciously than he means to, but at least it stops the raven’s mouth from moving and making such idiotic sounds.

Regulus has the decency to look a little guilty, and he then continues to awkwardly wrap his arms around Remus, tapping his back a handful of times in what the brunette supposes is supposed to be a soothing gesture.

It’s mostly just weird and does _nothing_ to calm Remus’ nerves. Parting is equally weird, too, and Remus isn’t sure if he wants it to end or just wishes they’d never even hugged in the first place.

The bathroom is remarkably quiet, only the sound of the bobbing water there to disturb the tranquillity. There’s a poignant silence, and Remus feels it heavy in the air and he kind of wants to take it and toss it out the window and say goodbye to all uncomfortable tension ever, for the rest of his life.

Except then Sirius _speaks_ and Remus kind of forgets how to breathe for a moment. He hasn’t heard the other man speak in what feels like millennia and he’s not sure if maybe he’s just not used to the effect his voice used to have on him but he thinks maybe he kind of melts a little bit.

“Moony, you’re hurt,” he says and it’s like he’s never left, the hoarseness in his voice something of dreams, the familiarity of the name thick in Remus’ throat and he wants to cry or maybe just die because if that’s the last thing he’ll ever hear he’ll die happy, for sure.

He realises he’s been bleeding through the bandages on his thighs, but it doesn’t actually hurt that bad and he kind of doesn’t want to think about it right now. He looks at where Harry has dumped his shoes besides Hermione’s and then up at the boy’s face and there’s this odd tension as he bites his lip, worried, and Remus realises he can’t deny him this.

He rubs a hand over his face tiredly and then resolutely goes to sit beside the young boy.

“Explain,” he prompts, and then watches the smile take over the boy’s handsome face, his curls dancing as he turns to look at Hermione excitedly.

So they tell him the story of how the young Malfoy boy almost got one of Hagrid’s animals – a Hippogriff named _Buckbeak_ , of all things – killed and how they went to comfort him and found Scabbers – apparently Ron has a pet rat who is afraid of Hermione’s pet cat – but then on their way back to the castle Scabbers escaped and Ron got attacked by the Grimm.

Harry drifts off into a bit of a long monologue about how he saw a big black dog last summer – because Sirius _is_ , in fact, a stalker of children – and then they learned about the Grimm in Divination so Harry had been half convinced he was just sort of dying. Remus feels stupid he’s ever put any faith in Harry at all because _the Grimm_? That’s far-fetched, even for wizards.

The boy falls into an awkward silence when he mentions why Remus’ Patronus scared the bejeebers out of him except he then seems to realise that if the Grimm is Sirius then—

Regulus has gone back to snipping the dead ends off his brother’s hair, and as Harry blinks at Remus with big round eyes, he clears his throat and explains, “well I was bringing Hagrid some pepper-up potion when I saw those three run off and being attacked and was like huh, isn’t Sirius’ Animagus shape a dog?” he shrugs his shoulders as if it’s a very normal thought to have, “so then when I find them in the shack and Sirius is there I’m like, Remus wanted to come but you know it’s his time of the month, and the ginger goes like, professor Lupin is a _girl_? And then smartest-witch-her-age goes _for fuck’s sake he’s a werewolf_!”

Hermione has the audacity to _blush_ at the compliment as if she hasn’t been using the f-word around teachers, and Harry says, “we found the shack because Sirius was aiming for Scabbers but mauled Ron’s leg and took him along in the process,” which very much reminds Remus of that one Christmas where they stole way too many chicken legs and for days after the raven was just always gnawing away at the bones in the hallways.

While Regulus puts away the scissors and starts brushing the long black hair instead Harry continues explaining how sceptical their potions teacher was of his brother’s innocence, at first, apparently having stated: “Remus would be devastatingly disappointed in me if I just gave you a hug and made up without even a little fight,” to which apparently Sirius has argued very vehemently, “my Animagus is a _dog_ his is a _rat,_ ” and then had repeated in a very loud voice “I AM A DOG,” to which Regulus in turn had stated, “dogs can be traitorous. A dog bit me once!” to which Sirius had apparently just groaned very dramatically.

Harry swears these are all direct quotes, the brunette beside him nodding avidly and the silence from the adults in the room is as much of an agreement he needs to believe it.

Apparently though, in the scuffle between the two brothers, Peter-still-as-Scabbers had escaped and then when they went to look for him they’d been ambushed by Dementors and it had just been one big old mess. Sirius had gotten arrested, Regulus got bit by an upset Buckbeak and Harry got rescued by someone he was sure was his dad but turned out was just actually himself – now usually Remus would think it would be quite silly that the boy had been so convinced, but seeing how two Marauders had showed up tonight, he himself found himself almost wishing it’d been true, for Prongs to have been the one to save him.

He’s also pretty damn proud that Harry mastered his Patronus though.

So apparently Hermione’s been using a time turner the whole year and that’s what they use to _go back in time and save everyone_ which is _insane_ , honestly, but Remus is all in all not surprised Dumbledore condoned that madness in the first place.

They make it sound very heroic, which Remus is sure it was, but then they almost let Peter escape again, apparently, but he doesn’t because now-Regulus just sends a letter to Dumbledore to explain the situation while past-Regulus joins the kids. Although it does mess with past-Regulus’ brain, nothing goes catastrophically wrong and then Peter is arrested, Ron is brought to the infirmary, and Sirius, cleared of all blame, is ushered away by his concerned and slightly grossed-out brother to take a bath.

Regulus finishes drying off his brother’s hair and looks at his watch. He says, very casually, “I think madam Pomfrey will let us into the infirmary now.”

The two Gryffindors nod excitedly, getting to their feet and nudging their still wet toes into their shoes. Regulus gives his brother _a look_ and then ushers the teenagers away, directing his stern gaze at Remus instead, “you should both get some rest, you look horrible.”

Harry waves at his Godfather cheerfully, thrusting a bundle of cloth in Remus’ arm before he gives him a quick hug. Before he can process the move, the boy’s already closed the bathroom door behind him, and he’s left standing there with his best friend’s invisibility cloak.

He tells himself it’s not weird but it’s a big fat lie if he’s ever told himself one. He turns away to give the other man his privacy as Sirius lifts himself from the water, focusing instead on the colours of the yukata Regulus has laid out for his brother. It must have been something Regulus has kept with him for years, because he remembers the shade of crimson interwoven with golden thread, the softness of the fabric as he reaches out to touch it.

He must have seen it on Sirius a thousand times before – paired with a black obi when they’re up in the dorm drinking butter beer, a golden obi on nights spent in front of the fire with Remus’ hands in Sirius’ hair and—

Sirius doesn’t say anything as he carefully swaps out the soft fluffy towels for the cotton yukata, and Remus holds out the black obi for him without meeting his eyes. He’s not sure if it’s supposed to feel weird, when all it is is familiar.

He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face as he watches Sirius’ deft fingers tie his obi around his waist – maybe he’s still asleep and this is all a dream, but if it is, it’s one of the best dreams he’s had in ages.

They get under the cloak, and Remus appreciates Harry’s kindness at the offer – the halls will be filling in with students now – but it is also such an odd feeling he kind of has to laugh. It’s like they’re children again, sneaking around behind teachers’ backs, except that the cloak is too small to fit them properly and they’re both kind of gasping with stifled giggles as they try to hide their feet.

He refrains from looking at Sirius’ face because even just hearing him laugh is already too much. Their shoulders touch and it’s electric and they hobble through the corridors, biting into their fists and giddily thumping into each other as they rush this way or that to avoid colliding into unsuspecting students.

He feels like maybe he’s fifteen again, and he has Sirius by his side, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

They stumble up the staircase leading to Remus’ office in a flurry of limbs and giggles and they ignore the mess, beeline for his bedroom and then Sirius tears off the cloak and they fall back against the door, crying because they’re laughing so hard.

It should be strange and foreign, but when Sirius’ hand finds his face it’s the most natural thing in the world. After all these years, he comes home, buries his cheek into the warmth of his palm, and when their eyes meet there’s a storm – Remus is just very good at weathering those.

Sirius uses both hands to cup his face and he thinks maybe he loses himself a little bit, because he can feel it tingling just below the skin, the heat blooms in his heart and spreads all the way to his toes and he wants this moment to possibly never pass.

It has to though, because he's steadily bleeding through his bandages.

There's this glimpse of the life he's always imagined, as he sits on the bed and lets the raven take care of his – his hands are gentle as they dap Murtlap essence on his wounds, even gentler as they rewrap his bandages. He doesn't hum a tune, like he does when Remus dreams about this, but then maybe the ruffling of his yukata where it bunches at his knees is tune enough.

They nap, and it's the best nap Remus has ever had in possibly his whole entire life. It's not just the warmth of another body, but the smell of tangy lemon verbena and grass and something earthy – it shouldn't be so comforting, but it had been years since that scent had stained his lips; it was the same scent that soaked into his pillow cases, lingered on all his favourite sweaters, drove him crazy every full moon and was there to lull him back again come morning; the scent of his mate.

The warmth of it is indescribable, and he can't quite convince himself he's not dreaming yet.

As it turns out he's _not_ dreaming and the next few days are just a kind of daze of re-introducing Sirius to the wizarding world. He spends long walks with Harry by the lake, until they come back, both pink-faced and eyes filled with mischief, and implores Remus to come creep into the hidden corridors with them, shows Harry how to tie his obi and tells all the embarrassing stories that go with the pictures in his photo album.

“James had been blubbering like a baby before this one, see Remus is very adapt at the tickling charm,” he says, and, “Lily almost forgot her potion essay that morning, not her finest moment,” and Harry is always just stifling his laughter behind his hand, holding onto Sirius’ arm for dear life.

Summer sees them parted, and Remus loathes to watch it happen, but there’s things Dumbledore still needs arranged before Harry can have what he’s always wanted, and thankfully – or maybe sadly? – the sight of Sirius scares the muggles so much Remus is quite sure they will think twice before they mistreat the boy again.

Sirius takes it all in strides – he smiles at every mistrustful look he gets and the fondness that mares his face as he’s introduced to Siri is far too adorable. He makes his home on Regulus’ couch and after dinner tells of his nightmares with hushed breath pressed into Remus’ skin. And he says, “we can take it slow,” and “let me take you out,” and Remus thinks any day now, he’ll wake up, watering can still in hand.

Except he doesn’t.

So instead of worrying he lets Sirius take him out. They go on a date every day for a month, because Sirius is seemingly determined to reduce him to a blushing mess. He brings him flowers – some of them look familiar, and Remus tries not to grin at the thought of the younger Black realising some of his roses have gone missing – and takes him out for ice cream and to watch a movie in the theatre and to eat at expensive pasta restaurants and in the evenings he walks him home and they sit in the garden, watching Sirius’ fingers dance in the air as he maps out the stars they see.

He puts Remus to bed too, always gently, presses kisses to his forehead and hums until he falls asleep and he’s not sure what they’re waiting for – not exactly, not until one evening the older man settles down besides the bed, props his chin up on the mattress.

Today his yukata is yellow with pink woven through, a beautiful display of summery youth that he hasn’t felt since he was a teen. The fabric is soft when their elbows brush, and Remus has been repressing the urge to reach out and touch it all day. It reveals the nape of his neck, where ink runs up to meet his hair and he tries not to think about how many times his lips have followed that pattern – his tongue could trace the shape of it with his eyes closed.

He enjoys a little more ostentatious kanzashi these days – compared to when he was young and he would take the ones his mother would miss the least – and today it’s golden with ribbons of soft green and orange decorating it. It matches his hair beautifully as he pins it upwards, allowing stray locks to frame his face and tickle at his neck.

Remus is turned onto his side so that he can watch the older man’s face as he sings softly, drawing nonsensical figures on the linen with his fingers. His wrists are inked, and there’s been enough time passed now so that he doesn’t feel strange about letting his pinky finger brush past them, as if by mere accident, and he thinks that’s good enough, it really is.

“Well I don’t know about you Moony,” he murmurs into the air between them, close to where Remus’ hips are hiding beneath the blankets, “but I for one find you still as lovely and intellectually stimulating as I always used to,” he’s giggling now, which is stupid, but he’s trying hard to hide his rapidly pinkening cheeks and there’s only so much of his face he can hide all at once, “and if you don’t mind I would very much like to spend the night.”

He doesn’t mind, but he does exclaim a, “you’ll have Regulus all _worried_ ,” in fake-exasperation as the older raven crawls into bed and tickles him into submission.

It’s a lot like when they were younger and it’s pretty messed up how nothing has changed because Remus knows he as a person has actually changed a lot. And he knows for a fact that Sirius has changed a lot, too. But for some reason that makes no difference in who they are to each other, and he sees all the ways Sirius has changed and then sees the way he hasn’t and in the end it still kind of boils down to this:

He has always loved Sirius most.

If he were to put it in a graph it would be that very same stagnant line and he likes to pretend things changed and he was convinced of Sirius’ guilt and his feeling acted accordingly, but when do they ever?

Never.

So he just blushes a brighter pink and is acutely aware of where Sirius’ yukata is falling open to reveal his milky thigs, blotted with ink, and he blushes even brighter and then giggles again as the man’s fingers find his ribs.

“Now let me just make sure you aren’t missing any bits,” he says this with a straight face and nudges at Remus’ shirt as he does, “I know how you get Moony.”

He feels like a teenager all over again, but in the best of ways. Sirius blushes too, brighter than he ever has, but then he’s just all feisty teeth and gentle fingers and Remus thinks _now_ , or _now_ , or _definitely now_ but he crashes and his body goes stiff with it too and he doesn’t wake up, his mind just kind of goes blank and he thinks maybe he’ll never breathe again, because Sirius has stolen his breath away.

In the morning Sirius is all smiles as he makes him breakfast, bare-foot in the kitchen with only Remus’ dress shirt to cover up the black scribbles down his back and Remus thinks this is a glorious moment, he never wants to forget.

Today is different. Sirius insists they don’t need to see Regulus for lunch – even though they’d _promised_ – and then kind of nudges Remus until he’s agreed to take them out for a drive.

The drive is really nice though, Remus loathes to admit it. Sirius is wearing blue today, a yukata he’s discovered Remus has been keeping in his closet for all these years and it’s something that caused only shame before, but now, seeing him in those colours, it brings a smile to his face so bright his cheeks hurt.

His profile is just always being framed beautifully by the light, as if the sun revolves around this delicate creature besides him, shapes itself so as to always have his skin set alit. Ink seeps out from under the wide sleeves as the man indicates where they should make a turn and Remus wants to press his lips to the pulse and feel it. There’s one hand always hiding between the hotness of his thigs and Remus thinks he’s home there, that’s where his hand should be making a nest and stay, for all eternity. _He’s not dreaming_.

They drive a ways away until they’ve gone into town and then passed through again, to the quieter muggle neighbourhoods where all the houses are standalones with big yards and flowerbeds at the front. There’s a white house at the end of the street and they haven’t stopped yet but Remus can feels Sirius’ magic there, crackling in the air and he’s not sure why but his stomach does a summersault and when he glances over at him, he’s grinning, his canines bared.

The shutters are marine blue and the door is the lighter colour of Sirius’ yukata and the roof panes are red and there’s so many plants in the front yard, he can imagine the smell of them even before he’s halted the car.

Harry’s outside, afro a mess as always but his smile is splitting his face in two, white pearly teeth showing and his hand is waving over at them, his whole body practically vibrating with the excitement of it. Regulus stands besides him, a perfect picture as always, with his hair brought up atop his head and his obi done tightly around his waist. He’s smiling, too, and Remus thinks he might be so happy it _aches_.

“So?” Sirius’ hand finds his own and when their eyes meet he thinks he might drown.

He’s holding out a small blue box and the ring is too obnoxious, gorgeous silver with a gleaming white moon stone set in it and Remus _knows_ it’s going to be heavy and uncomfortable and he’s going to love every minute of it.

“Am I dreaming?” he’s not sure what else to say, but when he reaches out to touch the box, Sirius’ snaps it closed on his fingers, making him yelp and then glare at the other man.

He’s still grinning, “well? Are you?”

He isn’t.

They sit out on the porch that night, with Harry running around the yard, trying to very strategically convince them that buying a puppy should definitely be their next move because Padfoot needs someone to keep him young.

All three of them are insulted, but Harry is grinning and his eyes have little diamonds in them and he’s so happy, life is _good_.

He’s still smiling when they put him to bed that night, and he’ll wake up with a smile next morning too. It’s nothing he’d ever expected to happen but now he can’t get enough of it.

Out in the yard, Sirius sits in the middle, using his long legs to drive the swing into action.

He takes one of his brother’s cigarettes and they jest about it in quiet, hushed voices, and Remus thinks how lucky they are, to be sitting on this bench with Sirius between them, their hearts so filled with forgiveness and fondness and he watches as the two men inhale and then exhale and their shoulders are brushing, meshed tight, as they continue to exist, together.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final instalment for this story!  
> Buuuuut I will probably be writing more for this AU because wow I just love it and have so many more ideas for it?!?! I just don't want to drag on this story in case I never do finish any of the other ideas I have been working on, and this one is wrapped up so nicely like this so!!!!  
> Hope you enjoyed this and leave a comment if you can! :D

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone has any summary tips, please let me know!


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